Дэвид Балдаччи - The Guilty

“How is Ty doin’?” his father asked.

Robie took a deep breath and held it before letting it go. He had to remind himself that he could not get it all done today or tomorrow or the next day. Small steps, like executing a mission. You check off one box and then the next. And then the next.

“Seems to be holding up. Victoria said she was bringing him to see you.”

For the first time Robie saw distress in his father’s eyes.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

His father barked, “I don’t have to explain anythin’ to you. I don’t even know why the hell you’re here.”

Robie pushed off the wall. “I’ve got things to do. Anything you need?”

His father started to say something but then shook his head and looked away.

“I didn’t hurt your arm, did I?” asked Robie.

“About as much as I hurt your face, so not much.”

Robie turned to go.

“Watch out for those casino boys,” said Dan Robie.

He turned back around, but his father still wasn’t looking at him.

“I will,” said Robie.

When Robie left the jail they were waiting for him.

“Agent Wurtzburger,” he said, nodding at the FBI agent and two of his men, who were sitting in the vehicle parked next to Robie’s.

“We need to talk,” said Wurtzburger.

“Do we?” said Robie. “I said I’d call if I had anything to tell you. And I don’t.”

“We received a call about you from DC. Would you rather talk about it in the privacy of our car or do it right here in the open?”

Robie gave the three men a searching look and then climbed into the backseat of the sedan.

“What call?” asked Robie.

“From a sister agency that does not officially operate domestically.”

Robie did not react to this externally, but the term son of a bitch floated across his thoughts.

“To do with me?”

“To do with you specifically. They didn’t go into detail, but it was clear that you are a valuable asset that they do not want to see damaged or worse. I told my superiors that I would do my best, but that I could hardly guarantee your safety unless I got you to leave town or locked you up somewhere.”

Wurtzburger looked back at Robie from the front seat. “And I gather you would not be amenable to either of those options.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“My superiors were also told that if we tried to force you to do so we had better bring in several teams of special agents loaded for bear, or it would ultimately be a losing proposition for us.”

To this Robie said nothing.

Wurtzburger continued, “I tend to believe my superiors, so this will be a voluntary association, Robie, and nothing more than that. The last thing we need is for Feds to be duking it out with each other.”

“Agreed.”

“We understand that Sherman Clancy’s house was set on fire either last night or early this morning.”

“I heard that, too.”

“Did you hear any more than that?”

“I might have.”

“Can you enlighten us?”

“Pete Clancy is trying to follow in his father’s footsteps with his casino partners. This apparently did not sit too well with some of them. They paid Pete a visit at his house. I happened to coincidentally stop by at the same time. They were giving Pete a hard time and I politely asked them to back off.”

“And did they?”

“Surprisingly, they did.”

Wurtzburger’s expression was one of healthy skepticism. “Right. Did you kill any of them?”

“No. If I had that would have required me to report it to the police.”

“Did you injure any of them?”

“Not permanently,” said Robie. “Except maybe for two. It was hard to tell. It was dark and things happened a bit fast. I didn’t wait around to triage them.”

“I can understand that. Where is Pete Clancy now?”

“He was not as grateful as one would have expected, so he drove off in his Porsche. He might be a long way away by now. If he’s smart, that is. But he might not be smart.”

“And these folks burned down the house?” asked Wurtzburger.

“I wasn’t there when that happened. But if I had to guess, they would have burned it down after they finished looking for what they wanted.”

“Which was what exactly?”

“They said Pete had sent some e-mails to them that evidenced he knew things about them that his father had known. They weren’t pleased about that. And they voiced that displeasure. They wanted him to show them what he had in the way of documentation backing up his position of knowledge. They threatened him with an acid bath unless he complied.”

“And a quick bullet if he did?” said Wurtzburger.

“Yes.”

“Could you ID these men?”

“Probably. But I doubt they’ll be available for a lineup.”

“Can you give us descriptions?”

“I can.”

Robie took a minute to do so while one of the agents wrote it down.

“What sorts of things do you think they were looking for?” asked Wurtzburger when Robie was finished.

“Probably anything that had to do with their businesses. The Rebel Yell makes a lot of money. Apparently a lot more than the other casinos. So maybe they have more product lines in addition to the cards and chips.”

“Local scuttlebutt again?”

“It’s amazing what you hear if you just listen around this place. Folks love to talk.”

“Have you told anyone else about this?”

“No,” lied Robie.

“What you found out could be a great motive for killing Sherman Clancy. Which might mean your old man gets off the hook.”

“That had occurred to me,” said Robie.

“But keep in mind that if you screwed with the casino boys they’re going to want retribution. And they probably already know who you are.”

“I agree, on both points.”

“You want some protection? I can spare an agent.”

“I think you have your hands full. I’m good. But thanks.”

“Change your mind, give me a call.”

“I’ll do that.”

As Robie was getting out of the car Wurtzburger said, “I can understand that you’re probably very good at what you do, but nobody’s invulnerable.”

“I’ve never thought otherwise,” replied Robie.

“Hello?”

Wurtzburger and his men had just driven off. Robie turned to see the girl standing there next to his car. She was staring up at Robie with the expression of a child lost in a storm.

Emma Chisum. He remembered her from the arraignment. She’d been sitting next to her sister, Sara.

“You need something?” asked Robie, drawing closer to her. Then something struck him. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Mom homeschools me. She had some stuff to do this mornin’.”

“Okay, everything all right?”

“You talked to my sister. She told me.”

“I did. Yeah.” Robie paused. “I’m very sorry about Janet.”

“She made her choices. That’s what Dad says. And then she paid the price for those choices. Bad choices.”

Robie was taken aback by the bluntness of the statement. And then he noted that the girl actually didn’t look lost in a storm. She just looked indifferent.

“What can I do for you?”

“Sara said you wanted to know things. Stuff that she might know about.”

“That’s right. I do. You know about my father?”

“Of course I do. Everybody in Cantrell knows about that.”

“Do you know anything about it?” asked Robie.

“Yes. And I can tell you. But it won’t be free. It’ll cost you.”

Robie nodded slowly, repulsed by the Chisum girls’ obsession with money. But maybe they had never had any. He doubted Baptist preachers in backwater towns made much.